


What he lacked

by Bonecrestdragon



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-27
Updated: 2013-12-27
Packaged: 2018-01-06 07:30:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1104100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bonecrestdragon/pseuds/Bonecrestdragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are certain things a man needs to stay sane when someone is picking apart his DNA. Shaun hopes that he can give Desmond these things. The things 16 lacked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What he lacked

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted on Fanfiction.net. However, I began receiving flames on this and other stories. I have moved some of them here in hopes that they will be safe.

Disclaimer! I don't own Assassin's Creed or any of its characters, blah blah blah. Let's just get to the story.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Shaun watched as Desmond stumbled his way over to the bed in the corner, shielded from the rest of the room by temporary walls. They had set it up for him so that he didn't have to walk so far after a particularly hard or long day in the Animus. They had set it up for a day like today.

The memory Desmond had just finished synching had been a hard one for him. Shaun could see that; in the blank look in his eyes, in the way he stumbled to the protection of the temporary room, by the sounds of puking and crying that followed soon after. Shaun stood cautiously from his desk and walked silently over to Desmond. The soon-to-be-assassin jumped when he felt the gentle but firm grip of Shaun's hand on his shoulder. Historian he may be, but Shaun did have to go through all the same training as the other assassins, and he obviously hadn't lost his touch. Shaun rubbed gentle circles into Desmond's back as he washed his mouth of the acidic taste if vomit. As Desmond pulled away from the sink and gave Shaun the okay that he'd be fine alone now, Shaun gave him a soft smile and returned to his work.

Shaun tapped away at his keyboard, working hard even at one in the morning. He felt Desmond's presence behind him, but paid it no mind. It wasn't uncommon for him to sneak out late at night when he was sure the girls were sleeping just to watch Shaun work. Or, more specifically, to try to learn something from whatever he was working on. It surprised Shaun at first by just how fast of a reader he was. And it wasn't that Shaun really minded the younger man being there. The aggression he displayed in front of the girls was mainly all a show so that they didn't think he'd gone soft. He actually rather enjoyed Desmond's company, when he wasn't being an insufferable douche bag, which was a lot less often lately. The time he spent in the Animus seemed to have matured him, to a point, as had the stress that Miles Senior and the rest of the Brotherhood had placed on his shoulders. The two of them rarely talked during these times. The only time words were really exchanged were the times Desmond came across French or Spanish or other foreign words that he couldn't quite translate. It was at these times that Shaun would give a quick little explanation or translation, but they rarely held a conversation. When Desmond decided it was time to try to sleep again, Shaun would walk with him back to either the temporary room or his room. Often, he would sit beside the bed reading from a history book or something of that sort until he was sure Desmond was asleep. Then, he would return to his work.

At about three in the morning the screams would start. Shaun was usually in bed by this time, but he was a very light sleeper. When the nightmares first started, Shaun would have to run to Desmond's side. However, the nightmares got progressively worse as Desmond got further in the Animus. It got to the point where they were a nightly thing, and Shaun had taken to sleeping in the same room as Desmond just so he didn't have to run laps every night.

Desmond would clutch at Shaun's hand as they waited for the most recent episode to pass. Shaun hated seeing the younger man like this- drenched in sweat, trembling, sometimes even crying. It tore him apart. Their eyes met as the last of the memory faded. Shaun squeezed Desmond's hand softly. He was giving him options, telling him he was there to help anyway he could. This often ended in Shaun holding Desmond until he fell asleep.

Unfortunately, the episodes did not always occur when Desmond was asleep.

"Desmond?! Desmond, I need you to look at me," Shaun insisted, taking a firm hold of the younger man's shoulder. Rebecca was by their side in seconds, already holding a first aid kit and sedatives just in case. She and Shaun could already see the blood soaking Desmond's jacket wherever his ancestor had been injured. Desmond's eyes flicked up to Shaun's, shifting erratically between gold and brown. Jumbled Arabic and English left his lips as he doubled over yet again in pain.

"Desmond, you have to focus. Come on, Des. It's me. It's Shaun," the British man emphasized, trying to break through the Bleeding Effect and bring the actual Desmond to the surface. The assassin-to-be gasped once more in pain, then stuttered out,"S-shaun?"

Shan sighed in relief, pulling Desmond into a more upright position so that they could see to his wound.

"That's right, Des. It's me. Can you tell me what year it is?" Shaun asked, more out of protocol than actual need.

"It's… 2012 right?" he asked, confused and still disoriented.

"Good. And your name…?"

"Desmond Miles." There was much more confidence in his voice and Rebecca was just tying the bandages. Shaun helped him up and to the nearby bed, careful not to agitate the gash.

He didn't bother trying to leave. Desmond would always stop him, beg him to stay. And Shaun could never refuse him. Lucy had always said that he cared too much, that Desmond would inevitably follow the same path as Sixteen, but Shaun couldn't bring himself to abandon hope.

Hope that he could give Desmond what Clay had lacked. Hope that he could keep Desmond holding on to his last vestiges of sanity. Even if Desmond had already given up, he would keep holding on.


End file.
